Lock & West

by Alexander C. Eberhart

  Stunned silence is the best way to describe the situation. Jack’s television show echoes from the other room.

  I grab my jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll be at the hospital. Text me if you need me.”

  Jill’s phone goes off again, and she grabs it with a shaky hand.

  I shrug on the jacket, zipping it quickly. I’m halfway out the door when Jill’s voice brings me to a halt.

  “Lan!”

  She’s wheeling toward me, phone still pressed to her ear.

  “It’s your mother.”

  I ask Jill to wait in the lobby, at least until I see her. She agrees without hesitation, holding Jack’s hand to keep him from running after a gurney. He’s fully expecting to see dolphins and sharks being carried in, not heart attack patients and dead bodies.

  The hospital is the same as when I left it yesterday. And the day before that. It’s strange, how unchanging this place is, despite the revolving patients and staff. I wave to the nurse at her station as I pass, arriving at room 1342. The door is closed, but I don’t open it. Not yet.

  I count the number of times I reach for the handle. One. Two. Three.

  Something isn’t right. An electricity hangs in the air, new and unsettling. It warps the sense of familiarity I’ve grown to have for this place.

  The worst part is, I know there’s only one thing that’s changed.

  The heavy door swings open, the brightness of overhead lights foreign and unexpected. They aren’t the only thing that’s different.

  Mom sits up in her bed, hands bound to the rails on either side. A young doctor stands over her, shining a light in one eye then the other. He asks something I can’t hear from across the room. She nods, her gaze locking onto me.

  The doctor notices, turning to address me.

  “Lachlan.” He smiles, and I suppose he probably knows me, though I don’t remember him. I approach the end of her bed, and he extends a hand. “I’m Dr. Redding. I’ll be overseeing your mother’s recovery.”

  He’s young for a doctor, but I don’t care about that right now.

  “How is she?” I ask.

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m not sitting right here.”

  I flinch. Not from fear but because a part of me was convinced I’d never hear her voice again.

  “Ms. Jones, please.”

  She huffs, tugging at one of her restraints before throwing her head back into the pillow.

  “She’s stable,” Doctor Redding tells me, holding his chart so it all seems very official. “She woke up a few hours ago and was proving more violent than we would have hoped, hence the restraints.”

  “Violent?” I repeat.

  “They’re mostly for her own safety,” the doctor continues. “I assure you. She’ll need to stay with us for at least another seventy-two hours so we can monitor her and assess her mental state.”

  “Does she know—” I stop, swallowing so I can say the words. “Does she know what she did?”

  “Her memory is a bit foggy at the moment, but that’s completely normal given the circumstances.” He leans closer, dropping his voice. “At this time, she doesn’t remember anything that’s happened the last few months. These memories should return, but it’s important we let her come to the conclusion herself, or else there may be…complications.”

  Right. So, I’m not supposed to tell her she went and tried to off herself because she couldn’t stand being our mother anymore? Fine. I guess we’ll talk about the weather.

  “I understand,” I say.

  “Good.” He pats me on the shoulder like I’m a child then turns to Mom. “Ms. Jones, I’m going to be back in a few hours to check in. Until then, I want you to rest. Got it?”

  “Oh darn.” Mom scoffs. “Here I was wanting to go bike the Tour de France. Whatever will I do?”

  The doctor chuckles, giving me another shoulder pat before he leaves. Now, it’s just me and Mom.

  Maybe I should go get Jill.

  “They say I’ve been out for a few weeks,” Mom says, watching me. “Are you and Jack alright?”

  A streak of gray hair rises from her forehead, serving as a time marker. She’d be mortified if she knew it showed.

  “We’re fine,” I tell her. It takes me a moment to realize I just lied. I don’t like how easy it came. “We’ve been staying with Jill.”

  “I guess it’s too much to hope you may have called the office to tell them what happened to me?”

  “Jill called,” I explain. “They seemed to be understanding.”

  Mom laughs. It’s a cruel sound. “I’ll bet there’s a pink slip waiting with my name on it. Oh god, what am I going to do?”

  “Let’s not think about that right now,” I tell her, coming around to the chair—my chair—beside her bed. “I’m just glad you’re awake.”

  She smiles at me, and I wrap my hand around hers. For a moment, with just a simple glance, I have the best version of my mother back.

  I breathe in this moment, letting it fill every part of me. It’s been far too long.

  “I’m so sorry,” she tells me, her voice breaking as tears begin to fall. “I didn’t mean to leave you two.”

  My breath catches because that’s exactly what she was trying to do. She just can’t remember it right now. Will it come back to her? What’s going to happen when she remembers taking that blade and—

  “It-It’s alright.” I give her hand a squeeze. “I know that.”

  She blinks the moisture from her eyes, letting out a sigh. “We just can’t seem to catch a break, can we?”

  And suddenly, it’s all too much and I really need to leave this room.

  “I’m going to go get Jack.” I pull away from her grip, and fear flashes across her face. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  “Hurry back.” She gives a faint smile.

  The walls are closing in on me as I clear the door, the resounding thud signaling the shattering of my world. I keep it together, passing the elevator because tight spaces aren’t happening right now. I duck into the stairwell, my breaths coming in gasps.

  Mom’s awake. I should be thrilled. I should wrap her in a hug and never let go. But the longer I look at her, the angrier I find myself as all the pain she’s inflicted sinks into my skin. I’m not angry at her necessarily. More at the whole situation. What am I supposed to do here? Eventually, she’s going to remember what she tried to do. What happens next? Will she do it again? How am I supposed to live like this?

  Maybe I should’ve let her…

  No. Jesus, Lan.

  She’s here, and she’s getting the help she needs. Right now, I need to find Jill, so she can help me get my head on straight. But before that, I need to get it together. I’m not in this alone.

  Moving to the corner wall, I rest my forehead against the cool concrete. It centers me. Once I’ve gathered myself, I continue down the stairs, each step echoing until I hit the main floor.

  It doesn’t take long to make my way back to Jill.

  “How is she?” Jill asks. She’s parked beside Jack who’s passed out on a bench. A nurse hurries by in green scrubs. I watch as she goes. There are two more following her. Four. Five. Six.

  “Awake,” I say. “She doesn’t remember the last couple months. And she definitely doesn’t know I took Jack and left. The doctor said it should come back to her.”

  “Well, that’s not good.” Jill clicks her teeth, a welcome sound in this place of foreign noises. No matter how much time I spend here, it’ll never be home.

  “I told her I was coming to get you two. Are you up for it? I couldn’t be in there alone with her any longer.”

  “Of course, Lan.” Jill scoops Jack off the bench with a bit of difficulty.

  “Let me,” I tell her, taking my brother and propping him on a shoulder.

  “Lan?” he mutters, groggy.

  “It’s me, buddy.” I scratch his back the way he likes.

  “Where are we?”

  Jill and I st
art toward the elevator.

  “We’re visiting Mom,” I say. The button on the wall illuminates with a press. “She’s been asking about you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  The doors open with a chime, and we step/roll in. Our ride is smooth, and before Jack can bombard me with his hundredth question, we’re back in the room that’s no longer caving in. He practically leaps out of my arms onto the bed.

  “Mommy!”

  And for another brief glimpse, Mom is her old self, all smiles and love and light.

  “Look at my little captain!” She laughs, wrapping her legs around him since her hands are still restrained. “How you’ve grown… Soon, you’ll be pillaging the seven seas!”

  “Does this mean we get to come back home?” Jack asks.

  “Of course, it does, sweetie.” Mom misses the true meaning of his question. “Just as soon as Mommy is all better.”

  Jill stays at the foot of the bed, just watching. Her face is alabaster, pale and unmoving.

  “I’ve missed you.” Jack lays his head on Mom’s chest.

  “I’ve missed you more, my Jack-Jack.” She kisses the top of his head. “Tell me about your time with Auntie Jill.”

  Jack launches into the kind of story that doesn’t really have an ending, just more and more details until eventually you forget what you’re talking about. At some point, I return to my chair, kicking a leg over the side so it dangles. Jill fiddles to release one of mom’s restraints so she can wrap Jack up against her.

  Jill is laughing at Jack’s story, and Mom looks happier than I’ve seen her in forever. I can’t help but feel hopeful, like maybe there’s a chance things will work out for the better. After everything that’s happened, it’s time we catch a break. This could be it. Our chance.

  It all comes to a halt with a single question.

  “When do you start your honors classes, Lan?” Mom asks, stroking a now-sleeping Jack’s hair. He passed out almost an hour ago, and his soft snores make my heart happy.

  “I’ve got to talk to my councilor,” I answer. “He told me to come in next—” I sit up in my chair. “Wait a second.” I look to Jill, who perks up. “Mom, I never told you I was starting advanced placement.”

  “Of course, you did,” Mom says, brow furrowed. “You told me…”

  I told her yesterday. While she was unconscious, and she wasn’t supposed to be able to—

  Oh god. That’s not all I told her.

  Mom blinks a few times, like she’s trying to flush something from her eyes. “You told me about next semester.” She speaks slowly. “That you’ll start earning college credit.”

  I scramble from my chair, going for Jack.

  “Then you said…you’re gay.”

  I freeze, my mother’s eyes locked on me.

  Jill watches, wide-eyed. “Oh, fuck.”

  “And you said you didn’t want me to wake up.” Her voice drops, taking on the bitter tone I’ve grown accustomed to. “How could you say that?”

  “Mom. Please.”

  I reach for Jack, but she’s clawing at the bandages on her wrist with her free hand, chest heaving and face twisted in emotions I can’t even begin to imagine. “What—When did I…”

  “You don’t remember everything right now.” I try to stay calm. “I can explain, I promi—”

  “Don’t say ‘promise.’” She cuts me off then laughs—a crazed, sharp sound. “Your father used to promise me things too, you know. He promised he loved me. That I was the only one for him. That we would be together forever. Promise after empty promise.”

  “Jenny.” Jill comes closer, placing a hand on the railing. “You need to stay calm.”

  “And you.” Mom reels on Jill, her arm catching the opposite restraint to keep her from lunging out of the bed. “Now, you poison my children against me, just like you poisoned Jim.”

  Jill doesn’t move. “What are you saying?”

  “Don’t play innocent,” she sneers, jostling Jack hard enough to wake him. “I know what you told him. I know you kept his secrets, that it was you who convinced him to leave me!”

  “I never told him to leave,” Jill retorts. “You did that yourself, Jenny.”

  “Mommy?” Jack rubs the sleep from his eyes.

  “Why would you do that to me?” Mom ignores him, her volume rising. “My only sister, telling my husband to abandon his family.”

  “I never—”

  “Shut your mouth!” Mom yells. Jack falls out of her lap and begins to cry. I jump to scoop him up, cradling him against my chest. Her eyes cut to me, desperation washing over her features when she realizes he’s gone. “Give him back,” she pleads. “You can’t take him again.”

  “Jenny,” Jill snaps to catch her attention. “You’re frightening him.”

  “No,” Mom mutters, tears welling in her eyes. She tugs at the restraint but can’t unfasten it with one hand. “No, no, no. Please, don’t take him. Jack, it’s okay, sweetie. Don’t cry. Hush.”

  Jack continues to weep. I take a step for the door.

  “No!” Mom lurches against her restraints, the bed rail creaking from the stress. Jill grapples with Mom’s arm, but she shoves Jill off. The chair tips sideways, and Jill tumbles to the floor with a yelp.

  “Give him back!” Mom screams, struggling until veins throb in her forehead.

  My feet don’t move, like shock has melted my shoes to the floor.

  “Lan!” Jill pulls herself upright on the frame of the bed. “Go get help, for Pete’s sake!”

  I somehow find the strength to lift my legs, clearing the door into the hallway.

  “H-Help!” I shout. A nurse down the hall sticks her head up from the desk. “Help!” I say again, and she springs into action. Two more people in scrubs rush past, and I press Jack into me with enough force I’m afraid I’ll break him.

  “No! Please! Jack!”

  Mom’s voice echoes down the hall, clear and vibrating, but it’s nothing compared to the sound of my splintering heart.

  “I’m sorry, I’m the worst person ever.”

  I hand over my signature apology item—the candy bar bouquet.

  Chels just stares at the cluster of Kit-Kats and Butterfingers, unimpressed.

  “No good? Damn. I should have sprung for the apology cake too.”

  She cracks.

  “You’re the worst,” she says, accepting the bundle of sugary treats.

  “I think I’ve already established that.”

  “Get in here.” She moves aside, letting me step into the house. “Fair warning, Mom and Dad are home. They’re going to want to talk to you and shit.”

  “Oh, how awful,” I say with a chuckle. “People who actually want to connect with me on an emotional level. How will I ever survive?”

  Chels smacks me with a candy bar.

  “Ow! They’re called Kit-Kats not beat-me-with-a-bats.”

  “Come on, crybaby.” She passes me, starting up the stairs. “Once they spot you, I’ll never get you back.”

  I follow up to her bedroom, flopping down on the bed while she unwraps a piece of my apology. I knock a few of the throw pillows off onto the floor. There are still a million. We break the Kit-Kat in half. She takes a bite, and I just hold mine until the chocolate starts to melt.

  The sweet smell turns my stomach.

  “You’re starting to scare me. You know that, West?”

  “Why’s that?” I prop myself up on an elbow, setting the gooey chocolate back into the wrapper. “Is it that I’m too attractive? Because I’ve been having that thought my—”

  “Do you think I’m stupid or just naïve?” she interrupts.

  “I don’t think there’s a right answer for that.”

  She’s not laughing. “West, can we be serious. For once?”

  I swallow. “Y-Yeah. Sure.”

  Chels lifts her phone, the flash going off before I can react.

  “What the hell?” I question.

 
“Look at this,” she orders, turning the screen toward me.

  I drop my gaze to the bedspread.

  “You can’t even do it, can you?” She slides the phone over, so I can’t ignore it.

  I wince.

  The boy in the photo resembles me, but his angles are sharper, cheeks curving in ever so slightly. Dark circles surround his eyes, and his skin has a pale, almost translucent complexion.

  Shit. This is why I’ve avoided mirrors.

  “You’re right.” I fake a laugh. “I’m getting too hot. I think this is a major problem.”

  Chels takes back her phone without a word. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, which is her deep thinking tell.

  She’s looking at me like I’m a stranger, which hurts more than I thought it would. It’s like she’s trying to read my mind, which is ludicrous, because she’s the only person on this stupid planet who actually gets me.

  I watch her, the silence lengthening until it’s painfully sharp, pressing against my ears like needles. I’m about to say something when she finally speaks.

  “Do you remember when Jeremy dumped me last year?”

  “Uh, yeah?” I sit up. Why would she bring him up? “The fucker stood you up on Valentine’s day. I wanted to key his Mustang, but you wouldn’t let me.”

  “Forgive me for wanting to keep you out of prison.” Chels smiles, but it dissolves and she’s serious again. “How about what you told me, that first night. Do you remember?”

  I’m trying to recall, but it’s so difficult to bring anything up through this brain fog, so I end up shaking my head.

  A sad smile plays on her lips. “You told me boys were fickle and stupid, that Jeremy was ‘King of the Neanderthals,’ and that he definitely got dropped on his head as a baby.”

  I grin, those memories flooding back in like a dam bursting. Chels reaches over, wrapping her warm hand around my frozen fingers. “But before all the tears and all the screaming and us burning Jeremy’s things out back, you took my hand, just like this. You looked me dead in the face and told me that it was okay to cry. You told me to get it all out, that you’d stay beside me, no matter how long it took.”